In case it rains for twenty years or more,
keep this. You might need me to run a line
of kisses from your neck along your spine,
rub oil into your skin, unlock a door,
or lock it and let no one knocking through.
You might not. That’s okay. No one insists
the future plots a course you must traverse.
You’ll spin, you’ll stray, you’ll wander, you’ll reverse—
your steps determine where your path exists.
I’m happy just to dance a step or two.

I wish you frenzy and sobriety.
I wish you sunshine, clouds, cicadas, birds,
and love, in all its strange variety.
Keep this and when you need to, hear these words.